


Awakening

by DownwardSpiral



Series: At the Beginning and End of All Things [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BlackIce, Disregards Book!Verse, First Kiss, First Time, Lots of Firsts, M/M, Prequel, Sexual Content, Slow Build, celestial!Jack, first touch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownwardSpiral/pseuds/DownwardSpiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost - a recently grounded comet, awakens to find himself in the care of Pitch Black the Nightmare King and struggles to adapt to his new life on earth.</p>
<p>Prequel to At the Beginning and End of All Things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Pitch still remembered the day he found the ice sprite. It seemed incomprehensible that the creature responsible for such mindless destruction could be so small and frail and yet so powerful. 

Pitch had spent countless years being tormented by the feeling of the sprite's power leeching into the earth as he struggled to integrate himself to the environment to ensure his continued survival before beginning his search. No matter how much he tried to concentrate his will on developing the planet's primitive life forms into a proper state of sentience to produce the fear he needed to survive, he could always feel that presence in the back of his mind - a gentle pulse of power as sure as the sunrise and as unstoppable as the tide. It called to him, drawing him closer so that when he finally began his search, it didn't take long.

If Pitch had a heart, he would have described his first sight of the ice sprite as pitiful. Here was a creature used to the freedom of flight and endless empty spaces lying broken and striped of his power, left naked and injured in a strange and alien place. Nevertheless, the sight awoke a feeling deep with him that he couldn't properly describe. Perhaps it was that he had a heart after all, even if that heart felt like it belonged to another man, a man who had died long ago.

It was easy for Pitch to retrieve the sprite from his earthly prison. Unconscious, he offered no resistance as Pitch carried him into the shadows. The earth held many dark and secret places that Pitch chose to make his home. It seemed almost inappropriate to keep a creature with such bright and luminous skin in a place filled with deep velvet shadows, but Pitch reasoned that the sprite must be shocked and irritated by the alien sun on his skin having never felt such a thing before.

It suddenly occurred to Pitch that the ice sprite had never been exposed to light before. Before the accident, he would have been covered in layers of ice and dust - protection from the hazards of deep space - since the moment of his birth. Pitch realized that he was the very first person to ever see the ice sprite's true form.

He was beautiful too - certainly by the standards of the constellations. His body was well formed - lithe and slender, his youthful appearance at odds with his ancient origin. His hair was white, matching his soft skin and glowed like starlight especially in the deep shadows that Pitch called home.

He gently set the sprite down in a bed he had wrought from the shadows and covered his thin body with blankets woven of the same material. The sprite was badly injured but fortunately showing signs of healing. It would be some time before he was ready to even open his eyes. Pitch stared at him lying there and indulgently reached out and ran his fingers through the sprite's silver white hair.

It was surprisingly soft but cold like ice, like the frost that was leaking from the sprite's unconscious form, patterning the dark shadows he was wrapped in with spiralling ferns and roses. To Pitch's surprise, the sprite sighed and leaned into his touch. Pitch found this to be both an unexpected and alien experience. He was the Nightmare King. No one sought his presence willingly and certainly not for comfort. It was then that he realized that just as no one had ever seen this sprite before, he had never been touched. 

Pitch smiled darkly at the thought, stroking the soft skin of the boy's cheek with the back of his fingers, watching as he responded, sighing and leaning closer. Such a novelty - a creature that did not fear the touch of darkness. Pitch found himself eager to meet the sprite properly when he finally awakened. He was sure to have beautiful eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

He was drifting. 

He had been drifting for a long, long time.

So long that time had no meaning. 

His name was Jack - Jack Frost. He didn't know how he knew that, but the name felt like it was part of him. The only thing that he could concretely remember. The rest was a blur, an endless array of scenes, emotions, and physical sensations that would drift through his mind unattached, without association. They did not reassure him. They only deepened his confusion.

He was injured. That much he understood. The constant pain that rippled through his body was proof of that. What he didn't understand was why. 

As he lay there trying to put the pieces of his shattered mind to right, the only thing that would come to him was a memory of light, pain and shattering pressure. It hurt to remember any more than that so he stopped trying. 

It didn't help. It didn't mitigate the pain. Instead the pain blurred and warped into a host of sickening physical sensations that felt completely alien to him.

He was exposed. His broken mind understood that much. If he had been well, he might have panicked at the thought of his fragile skin being stripped of its icy shell and left bare on an alien world, but such thoughts never occurred to him as he was too busy trying to process the sensation of air molecules drifting over him body, the light of a foreign star on his skin and the feeling of solid ground. 

Even worse, he could feel life on this planet. He had seen life in his travels through deep space. Millions, billions, trillions of countless creatures clustered together on their tiny worlds in a cacophony of noise and heat. It had been nauseating enough just passing by, but now he was trapped - trapped with the heat, smothering and hateful. He instinctively pushed back against the feeling. His innate ability to generate ice struggled to protect him, causing cold to seep into the planet that now held him, but it felt so futile. He was small and the planet was so very, very large. He kept channelling his energy but the planet kept absorbing it, spreading it across its vast surface. Vaguely Jack was aware of the temperature dropping but to nowhere near the depths he was used to.

His only salvation was the darkness. 

Jack didn't know how long he had lingered there in pain when the darkness approached him. Jack was no stranger to darkness. It had been a constant presence in his life among the stars, and although he could now barely grasp a memory of that life, he could remember that companionship.

Somehow it took away the sensations of light and heat and replaced them with soothing cool. While not nearly as cold as Jack would have liked, it eased the pain and confusion. It allowed him to concentrate on that presence. He could vaguely detect its intelligence and benign intentions from the gentle touches it left against his skin. It was the first touch that Jack could ever remember feeling against his exposed skin - the first sensation that wasn't pain. 

Jack found himself wanting to reach back, to touch for the first time, but he remained a prisoner in his injured body. It was endlessly frustrating but the touch helped him focus, helped him direct his own energy into healing so he could finally awaken.

It was painstakingly slow, but Jack had lost his true sense of time long ago. He had also lost all sense of his own abilities. Cold energy continued to build in him, no longer sinking completely into an indifference planet, but repairing his injuries. It was only later, Jack realized that he had trapped the energy inside himself, leaving it with nowhere to go.

~*~

After spending endless days first tracking the ice sprite and then caring for his injuries, Pitch found the day that the sprite finally awakened to be a surprise.

Although he had lingered by the young celestial's bedside, Pitch still took the time to walk the earth. It was refreshing to visit the humans and spread fear among them. They had come a long way since Pitch had first taken an interest in them but they were still so very primitive. Still, he could not afford to be picky about his food source and he found to his delight that as the humans grew and changed, so did their fears. While most were still based in instinct and survival, some had become baseless and irrational - Pitch's favourite kind. He also noticed with delight that they had developed rituals and superstitions. Such potential!

Another change Pitch found in his travels was the planet itself. It was much cooler than he remembered when he first arrived all those ages ago. Ice was growing thick on the polar caps and seeping toward the equator. Pitch was pleased to discover that this was the result of the ice sprite in his care. The youth's power continued to bleed out of his body into the earth shifting and changing it over time. At first Pitch worried that this might kill the sprite. It would be a shame if a creature of such power finally died of its wounds especially after Pitch had devoted so much of his own time and energy to its care. 

At least that's what Pitch told himself when looking at the sprite, covered in frost and wrapped in Pitch's shadows, but it didn't explain Pitch's devotion. He was gentle with the sprite when he didn't have to be. Pitch sat beside him for hours, stroked his face as if the touch could wake the sleeping creature, watching for any twitch or movement that might betray the sprite's awakening. 

Pitch found himself becoming frustrated with his own thoughts. He denied a growing obsession with the ice sprite. He was interested solely in his power - the ability to cause devastation and extinction. That was what had first attracted his notice and caused him to pursue the sprite across half the galaxy, abandoning his conquest of the golden age. He certainly was not interested in the youth's soft and luminous skin. He didn't pity the sprite's frailty or his loss. He didn't wish that sprite would reach out and touch him back, accepting the companionship of the darkness. 

At least that's what Pitch told himself, even if there was no one else to hear him.

He wouldn't admit how lonely he was. 

One day, in an endless sea of days, he returned to the ice sprite and found that - at long last something had changed. His lair, the realm of shadows, he had found deep in the forgotten dark spaces of the earth was no longer silent. The air was broken with screams and crying and the feeling of cold that had lingered since Pitch had taken the ice sprite into his care had sharpened, driving like knives against the skin. 

While Pitch felt and acknowledged the cold, it didn't bother him. What bothered him was the sound of crying. It was pained and grieving and while Pitch didn't ordinarily empathize with the pain of others, he understood this type of grief all too well.

Listening to the sprite evoked half forgotten memories. He knew what it was like to wake lost and confused in a strange and alien place, to have his life torn away and be forced into a new form of existence. He found himself, hastening to find the sprite and soothe his tears if only stop the flood of memories in his own mind.

He found the sprite sitting up in bed, his hands clutching his head in pain. His fingernails had broken the skin leaving bright red trails of blood on his face, a stark contrast to his pale skin. Ice was struggling to form over his body and creeping over the floors and walls, slowly turning the room into a glacier like the ones that had recently covered the surface above. 

Pitch found himself approaching the sprite, sitting on the edge of his bed and gently pulling his hands away from his head so that he didn't hurt himself further. The sprite panicked at the unexpected touch. His eyes were clenched shut in pain and he began the struggle against Pitch's hands. The feeling of cold intensified as sharp ice crystals lashed against Pitch's skin encouraging him to leave the sprite alone in his pain.

Pitch refused, drawing the sprite closer, wrapping his arms around the small thin body and running his fingers through the sprite's white hair. The sprite seem startled by this turn events, shocked enough to stop his pained screaming. Soon he responded enough to return Pitch's embrace, dissolving into tears.

As he cried, Pitch made no attempt to stop him. He understood this pain having felt similarly himself. 

After countless hours the sprite finally settled, purged of his grief and exhausted from his tears. He made no attempt to pull away from Pitch seemingly comforted by his embrace. 

Pitch found himself fascinated by the youth's face. It was smooth now that his tears had subsided but it still carried the marks of grief. So expressive and lively after the endless time sleeping. Pitch found his eyes drawn to his lips, soft looking and slightly blue from the cold. Before Pitch realised what he was doing, he was kissing those lips. They really were as soft as they looked. Pulling away, he found the sprite had opened his eyes and was looking at him for the first time.

His eyes were the clearest blue Pitch had ever seen.


	3. Chapter Three

If Jack thought that conscious awareness would improve the confusion he felt, he was sadly mistaken. 

The pain of his body had faded leaving behind the empty feeling of grief deep in his chest. In many ways it was worse because it defied explanation and there was no rational way to deal with it.

It lingered, despite his constant attempts at distraction. Worse still, sometimes it clawed out of his chest like a wild thing, burrowing itself into his mind like a parasite and overwhelming him with whirling conflicting sensations - hot and cold, light and heavy, pressure, pleasure, pain and above all the desperate need for air - faster and faster until the only thing left to do - the only thing he could do - was dig his torn fingernails into his scalp, tear at his hair and scream!

Jack usually came back to himself in tears. The fits surprised him. They were unpredictable in their onset but also left devastation in their wake. The air would drop to unbearable temperatures enough to freeze the lungs of anything living. The wind would whip ice crystals sharpened like knives against his unprotected skin. The earth would crack and shake under the strain. It was like all the chaos Jack felt unresolved inside him had been pushed outward. 

It was hardly satisfying and in no way made up for his loss. The only thing that made it bearable was Pitch Black.

His first memory - clear conscious memory - was waking in tears, screaming and bleeding. It would have gone on - it would have gone on forever! - if it hadn't been for those arms, strong but surprisingly gentle, wrapping around him until he felt safe and protected like he was wearing his ice once again and not stripped naked and crippled. 

To his shock, his screams had been silenced - by lips, firm and insistent. He remembered opening his eyes in shock and seeing the face of his protector. Pitch Black was a man made of shadow, a blend of grey and black, the only colour his glittering golden eyes. 

He introduced himself to Jack, calling himself the Spirit of Fear but Jack wasn't afraid of him. He reminded Jack of the darkness of deep space. His eyes were the glimmer of distant stars - a familiar comforting presence, like that of an old friend. 

Jack remembered collapsing into his arms in tears after one of his earliest fits, asking - almost begging - what to do. Lost and adrift, what was he supposed to do?

Pitch's answer was simple, he eyes soft with what might have been pity.

It wasn't spoken with callous disregard like it might have been. It was spoken as if having to fashion a new identity out of the dust and ashes of an old one wasn't an unknown concept. 

"You endure."


End file.
